I grew up Catholic. I joke about it a lot - Catholic guilt, Catholic school - you know the drill. I'm not going to knock Catholics or Catholic schools. I went to church up until I moved to Bend. After getting settled into Bend, I attended our only Catholic church and well, didn't go back. I didn't feel at home. I didn't get married in a Catholic Church. My son isn't baptized. I told my husband, I'm probably the black sheep of the family because of it. I'm pretty surprised I haven't heard "Your mother would not be proud of you."
Religion was pretty important to my mother. When faced with a divorce and three small children, she went to Mass each day on her lunch break to get her through it. She worked hard to send us to a good school (my younger brother and I attended public school while my brother went all 12 years. He should get a medal or something for that). She made me get up for 18 years, every Sunday and when I went away to college, she would call and make sure I went to church. Some of those Sundays I sang in the choir. I did it so I could hang out with my friends during Mass. When I was old enough to drive, my brother and I would skip church and get breakfast. I'm sure she was onto us.
Even though we don't go to church, I still believe in God. I still send good thoughts and prayers. I'm still puzzled what to do about Benjamin though. I know it will come to me sooner or later.
When I've gone through a hard time in my life, I just remember my mom telling me that she went to church everyday on her lunch break and she got through anything life put in her way.